


For Research

by pinkchiffon



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: A gratuitous description of Hux's eye color, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Ben is an angsty teenage writer, Ben pretty much wrote The Force Awakens, Deep conversations about daddy issues, First Kiss, Frenemies, JUST GUYS BEIN DUDES, Light Side AU, M/M, Mutual Idiocy, Mutual Pining, Too many excuses, Writer!Ben, benarmie, research For Writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 11:39:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10464069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkchiffon/pseuds/pinkchiffon
Summary: Ben Solo is fifteen years old and doesn’t have a dad, a social life, a career as a Jedi, or any real friends. What he does have, however, is a story starring his badass alter-ego, Kylo Ren. Kylo Ren has everything that Ben doesn’t: a lightsaber, an empire, and even a true love. Anything Kylo Ren encounters, Ben can write.Well, almost everything...





	

Ben Solo is fifteen years old when he decides that Kylo Ren needs a love interest.

What good is having a swashbuckling, enemy-slaying main character if there’s no damsel in distress for him to save? Every good story has one, and Ben’s sprawling tale isn’t going to be any different. 

He has all the details worked out: a mysterious stranger will appear on Kylo’s ship, the Finalizer, and the sexual tension will build slowly. Kylo will help train the other man for combat, and they’ll have long talks over late-night caf in the officer’s lounge. It will all lead up to the epic battle on the cold planet that Kylo has been training for, and after his victory, Kylo will realize that the mysterious man is missing. He will cut down a thousand enemies to get to the love of his life, and he’ll finally find him, lying in the snow, bleeding from wounds in his side and on his face. The man will say, “Kylo, you came,” and then, finally, after all these weeks, they will kiss. 

There’s just one problem. 

Ben doesn’t know how to write a kissing scene.

Sure, he understands the mechanics of it, but every time he tries to write the scene, it just comes out a scrambled mess of clichés. Ben writes best from experience, and kissing is one of the many experiences he’s never had. He would just ask one of his friends for a description, if not for the fact that a) it’s embarrassing, and b) Ben doesn’t really have any friends.

His afternoons are spent alone in his room, writing or sulking over his failed career as a Jedi. He eats dinner alone with his mom, and Ben avoids all of her political friends like the plague. Ben’s only social interactions come from the small New Republic school he attends on the Resistance base where he lives. Sticking to the desks on the outskirts during class, Ben eats with the only classmates he hasn’t managed to scare away quite yet.

The same classmates that Ben realizes are currently staring at him. “Sorry, what?” he mutters sheepishly, peering back into the eyes of Phasma, Mitaka, and Hux. 

“We had asked you what was weighing so heavily on your simple mind,” Hux deadpans, his dollish lips quirking into a frown.

“Uh, I don’t know, a lot of stuff,” Ben says, looking away. His utter lack of a love life is hardly something he’d like to discuss with this judgmental crowd. 

Hux rolls his eyes. “What, is the posh suite too small for the little prince?” he mocks. “Did Mommy forget to pack caviar in your lunch this morning?”

Phasma laughs as Ben clenches his fist. Sometimes, he thinks that Hux invited him to sit with them solely for his own entertainment. He mocks Ben’s privileged life with his mother, the embarrassingly famous General Organa, almost on a daily basis. 

“You’re just jealous that my parent doesn’t have to sleep in a prison cell,” Ben snaps back, hitting Hux where he knows it will hurt him most: his pride. His face twists into a toothy grin when Hux’s burns the same shade as his hair.

“My father isn’t in _prison_ ,” Hux spits, his fingers turning white as they clutch the edge of the table. “He’s under house arrest. There’s a difference.”

Ben smiles brightly at the ticking time bomb of fury sitting across from him. “Just keep telling yourself that, Hux.”

“The whole thing is bullshit and you know it!” Hux shouts, his eyes burning embers of hatred. “He defected _peacefully_ from the Empire and this is what the New Republic does to thank him.”

Ben frowns. “You know these are times of war, Hux.” Wow, he’s starting to sound like his mom.

Hux snorts as he takes a bite of whatever mush they’re serving in the cafeteria today. “I’m surprised you know that, Solo, considering your cowardly pacifist of a mother.”

“Fuck you,” Ben hisses. “Leave my mom out of it!”

“I would love to leave your mother out of her undeserved position of power, but alas, I am not yet old enough to take over for her.” Hux smirks at Ben like he’s won. Like _hell_ he’s won.

Before Ben can think of an equally scalding retort, Phasma places a hand on his arm and gives one of her infamous Why Do I Put Up With This Shit sighs. “You guys need to stop having the same argument every fucking day,” she says. “You’re ruining my appetite.”

“This food is ruining my appetite,” Ben mutters, looking down at his own plate of mush. Unlike what Hux had suggested, his mom did _not_ pack him lunches from home. And Phasma’s right; they do have this same argument every day. It sure isn’t the first time that Ben has heard the I’m-gonna-take-over-as-General-someday speech from Hux, and as much as he’d like to just ignore the power-hungry brat, it must’ve sunk into his subconscious somehow because Hux is the general of Kylo Ren’s troops in his story. As annoying as he is, Hux’s grades in Military Strategy class are flawless.

“So, Ben, what _is_ on your mind?” Phasma asks again, her blue eyes gleaming. 

Ben sighs. She’s probably just looking for some juicy gossip, not actually concerned about him. “I dunno, Phasma,” he says, looking away from her glowingly curious expression.

“C’mon, Ben, you can tell us!” Mitaka says eagerly, leaning across the table. Hux rolls his eyes at him, clearly not giving a flying fuck whether Ben decides to tell them or not.

“Okay, okay,” Ben says finally. As much as he may hate to admit it, it _is_ nice to have someone show an interest in him for once, even if it’s just Phasma and Mitaka. “You know how I write…” he begins.

Hux snorts, his eyes rolling once again. 

“Oh, shut it, Hux,” Ben snaps, turning back to Phasma and Mitaka. “So, in my manuscript…” He always calls it his manuscript in front of others to make it sound more literary and less like something resembling cheap holofiction. “There’s this scene I need to write, but I don’t know how to write it without…um…experiencing it myself,” Ben says.

Phasma laughs, her blond hair catching the sunlight coming in through the windows. “Benjamin Solo, are you writing a porno?”

Ben feels his face flush. “No, it’s nothing like that!” Okay, maybe he could’ve phrased that better.

“So you’re not talking about a sex scene?” Phasma’s tone is disappointed, her lips twisting into a pout.

“No,” Ben says. _That will come later…_

“Well, whatever it is,” Phasma says, “I think you need to just do it. You know, for research purposes.”

Ben bites his lip. “But what if it’s not safe, this thing I have to do?”

Phasma winks at him. “That’s never stopped you before, Ben. I seem to remember a certain incident involving a lightsaber that got you kicked out of Magic School.”

Mitaka snickers until Ben silences him with a glare. “I hate you,” Ben says to Phasma, only half kidding. He’s surprised that Hux doesn’t comment, but maybe he’s just lost in his delusions of grandeur. “And it’s ‘The Jedi Training Program’, not ‘Magic School.’”

Phasma shrugs. “Jedi, schmedi. Anyway, Ben, what I’m saying is that whatever it is you have to write about, you have to do.” She opens up a carton of blue milk. “ _Especially_ if it’s sex.”

“It’s _not_ sex!” Ben shouts. A few of the older students glance over suspiciously, but he just flips them off and continues. “…but if it was, who would I even…” Ben’s mind starts spinning, searching for words more eloquent than “do it with.” 

Barking out a laugh, Phasma gestures across the table. “Hux’ll do it with you.”

Hux has never looked up from his food faster, his freckles disappearing into his fiery blush. “Fuck you, Phasma. Just because I fancy men over women doesn’t mean that I’d—I’d—” Hux sputters, staring daggers. “Plus, Ben’s about as far from my type as possible!” Hux crosses his arms, trying to preserve the remainder of his dignity. 

“Yeah, how so?” Ben asks. He glares at Hux’s stupid, smug expression. “You’d be lucky to land someone like me.” Ben hefts his left arm from his side and flexes, hoping that his long hours lifting weights at the training center are noticeable enough.

Hux rolls his eyes, but Ben sees his blush deepen slightly. “First of all, I’d need someone with a brain. An intellectual,” he snaps.

“Fuck you, Hux,” Ben says, falling to his usual comeback. He doesn’t have to put up with this shit. Standing up from the bench seat of the table, Ben snaps, “I’m not hungry. I’m going to the library.” He spins on his heels and is halfway out of the cafeteria when he hears Hux’s mock whisper.

“I bet he’s going to the library to look up the definition of ‘intellectual’,” Hux says, making sure Ben hears him.

A tray sitting on one of the empty tables smashes against the far wall, a result of the ruins of Ben’s Force-using days. He stomps the rest of the way into the hallway, hoping that Hux didn’t see the tray. What he doesn’t need now is to be labeled as a tantrum-thrower. 

Well, the midday meal wasn’t a complete waste, at least. Phasma did give him some good advice. He’ll just have to kiss someone, so he can write his scene. He’ll just do it, and it won’t have to mean anything. He’ll kiss someone, as simple as that. He’ll kiss someone. For research.

 

***

The first person Ben Solo ever wanted to kiss was Poe Dameron. 

He met Poe on his first day post-Jedi school, when he was just ten years old. Poe was the mature age of fourteen, darting between the X-wings in the hanger Ben’s transport had just landed in. Ben vividly remembers being dazzled by the other boy’s unshakable confidence and tousled brown hair as he greeted Leia with annoying familiarity. 

“This is my son, Ben,” Leia had told Poe, gesturing to where Ben was sulking by the boarding ramp.

“Hey, Ben,” Poe had said with a proud wave. “I’m your mom’s best pilot.”

Leia had laughed at that, giving Poe one of those fond looks she used to give Ben. “Maybe someday you will be, but right now you should be in school, young man.” 

“Sure thing, General,” Poe had said, and then he laughed. It was that precise moment that Ben realized that moving back to the base with his mom might not be all bad.

But kissing Poe Dameron is completely out of the question. Now, he detests the pilot. The few clumsy attempts Ben had made flirting with him ended in miserable failure and more than one Force tantrum.

“Ha,” Poe had said after Ben rattled off what he hoped was a smooth pickup line. “You’re funny, kid.” He had reached down to tousle Ben’s hair and, with a laugh, went back to his friends. 

The electric light above Ben’s head had exploded with a quiet _pop_. Here Ben was, baring his soul to the boy he loved, and Poe had the audacity to _laugh_. If Ben was the powerful Jedi that he knew he could’ve been, Poe wouldn’t have rejected him like that. And he called him _kid_. His _dad_ called him “kid.” 

That night, Ben had written furiously. His troopers had dragged Poe onto his Star Destroyer, and Kylo Ren had met him in the interrogation room. Poe had still been the cocky bastard he always was, at least until Kylo had begun to rip through his mind, pulling out the most painful memories he could find. 

Ben leans back in his bed, running through his list of people he could kiss one more time. It has to be someone he’s at least spoken to, because what he certainly does _not_ need right now is a reprimand from his mom for kissing random civilians. And his list of people that don’t think of him as “the General’s weird kid” is embarrassingly short. 

Phasma is the obvious choice, since she talks to Ben the most. Well, actually, Hux may talk to him more, but insults shouldn’t count. But Phasma probably wouldn’t work. If Ben wants to have the best possible kissing experience, he probably should be at least slightly attracted to whomever he’s kissing, and as attractive as Phasma is from an objective standpoint, she just doesn’t do it for Ben.

Mitaka is even further out of the question, since he practically leaps out of his skin every time Ben so much as glances at him. Ben rolls his eyes; it wasn’t like he _meant_ to choke Mitaka during that battle stimulation. But, apparently the boy is still traumatized, and definitely wouldn’t let Ben close enough to spit on him, let alone go in for a kiss.

That leaves only one possibility: Hux.

Ben stares up at his ceiling, resigned to his fate. 

“Fuck,” he mutters. 

 

***

 

Every day for the past few mornings, Ben has rewritten the rescue scene in the snow. Each time, his lover has different features. One day he’s blond-haired and blue-eyed, the next he’s not even human. Ben’s tried a hundred different combinations, looking for the one that just feels _right_. One combination of traits shall surely stand out from the rest and whisper to him, “This is the person you’re supposed to be with.”

Ben just hasn’t found it yet.

The day after he resigns himself to the humiliating experience of asking Hux to kiss him, Ben takes one last crack at what he’s come to think of as The Scene. 

_Kylo Ren staggers through the heavy blanket of snow, his black cloak and intimidating helmet weighing him down as they accumulate the white particles. He reaches out with the Force, searching, searching for the hum of his true love’s presence._

Ben sighs. “True love” sounds clunky as hell. What he needs is a name, but that will come later. Maybe.

_Just when he thinks that he’s too late, Kylo hears it. The familiar pull of his true love’s mind. He spots a dark shape lying near a gaping chasm, and Kylo can’t move fast enough._

_His knees crush into the snow at the man’s side, and Kylo sees that he’s wounded. His perfect, aristocratic face is marred by a cauterized slash from one corner to the other, and his brown hair is damp with sweat and snowmelt. His eyes are closed, and Kylo lifts him into his arms._

_His true love’s eyes crack open, peering at Kylo from what seems like a million miles away. “Kylo, you came…” he whispers, his voice hoarse with pain._

_“Of course I did,” Kylo says, and then_ —

Ben drops his head into his hands. This is _hard_. How does he even start this part? Should he describe his lover’s lips? Should he just jump right in? Jump in with what? What’s the first thing that you notice when you kiss someone?

Ben groans, sliding his datapad into his bag. It’s time to leave for school anyway.

The day passes in agonizing slowness, and it doesn’t help that Ben has every single class with Hux. Every time he sees that gleam of red hair out of the corner of his eye, Ben wants to be sick.

Before he knows it, the day is over, and it’s time to ask the question that makes Ben want to blow his brains out.

Ben catches up to Hux just outside of the Education Building, his bright hair reflecting the afternoon sunlight. Ben grabs his arm, and Hux glares at him.

“What?” he snaps, yanking his arm out of Ben’s clammy grip. Hopefully Hux can’t feel how much his palms are sweating through that ridiculous black coat he’s wearing. 

“Hey, uh, I need your help with something,” Ben begins. He takes a deep breath, willing his face to remain impassive. “Could you come over to my place in two hours?”

Some of the malice fades from Hux’s eyes, but his mouth stays frozen in its perpetual frown. “Two hours? That’s dinner time.” The _“you fool”_ is so strongly implied that Ben wonders if Hux somehow managed to project it straight into his brain.

Ben shrugs. “Eat later.”

Hux’s slim eyebrows knit his face into a scowl. “Fine. What should I bring?”

_Bring?_ Ben is momentarily confused before he realizes that Hux assumes this is something homework-related. “Bring? Ah…your Military Strategy notes, yeah, that’s all you need.” _Well, your Military Strategy notes and your obnoxiously sarcastic lips._

Hux gives a sharp nod. “I shall be there in two hours’ time.”

Ben rolls his eyes as he turns to walk home. _Who actually talks like that?_

Once he reaches the General’s building, only a block away, Ben glances back over his shoulder. In the distance, he can make out the striking figure of Hux, still standing on the pavement outside the Education Building. From this far away, his slight frame is thickened by the coat, and Hux looks every bit the fearsome General of Kylo Ren’s empire. 

Ben shivers under the sudden feeling of being watched. He doesn’t even need the Force to tell him that Hux is also studying him from afar, wondering how he was conned into helping Ben Solo of all people with a favor.

 

***

 

One shower, one shave, three cuts, and two bacta pads later, Ben is pacing the floor of his room. Why did he say two hours? He still has thirty more minutes to kill, and he doesn’t know what to do with the time. He could take one more crack at The Scene, but Ben honestly doubts that his shaking hands could even hit the right keys at this point. 

He could try to meditate…but fuck that. Ben shakes his head, knowing that meditation will only end in broken furniture that he would have to clean up. _Speaking of cleaning up…_ Ben thinks, glancing around the living room. With Leia at meetings all night and the nosy cleaning droids powered down, the apartment is starting to feel kind of dusty. 

Ben picks up an ancient hand-held vacuum and studies it. _How…?_ He glances around the spacious living room. Well, Hux wasn’t entirely wrong, it is a bit _posh_. So many surfaces, so little time. 

“Whatever,” Ben mutters, slamming the vacuum back into the closet. He can just clean his room and bring Hux up there; that should be doable. He cringes, not so sure he should be using words like “doable” at any point during this uncomfortable interaction. 

Thirty minutes later on the dot, there’s a staccato knock at the door. Ben wills his feet not to trip him as he runs to answer it. Taking a deep breath, he presses his thumb to the keypad to unlock it. _Confidence is the most attractive quality, kiddo_ , Ben thinks, Han’s words rising unbidden to the forefront of his brain. 

Hux is standing straight as a broom, arms crossed, bag slung over both shoulders, on Ben’s doorstep. His ridiculous black coat has been traded for a navy tunic that brings out the brightness of his eyes, and his red hair is perfectly gelled into place. Hux’s passive expression quickly morphs into laughter as soon Ben opens the door.

“Stars, Solo, the fuck happened to your face?”

“What?” Ben says, running a hand over his jaw. His fingers catch the edge of one of the bacta pads, and he frowns. “Oh, that. Just a shaving…thing.”

“What, have you never shaved before?” Hux’s smirk makes Ben’s face burn.

“Ask yourself that question!” Ben snaps as he tugs off the bacta pads. A little childish, but oh well. “You’re the one that looks, about, uh, twelve!” _This is not off to a great start…_

Hux’s green eyes narrow. “I’m ten months older than you.”

“You _would_ know that.” Ben rolls his eyes and gestures for Hux to come in. 

Hux sniffs once he steps inside, almost as if he can smell the fact that Ben was too lazy to clean the place. He takes in the fluffy furniture and sleek technology with a frown. 

“Uh, here, let’s go to my room,” Ben says. He takes a few hesitant steps down the hall before he makes sure Hux is following him. He is, his arms folded behind his back as if he’s surveying the place. Ben snorts and presses the scanner that opens the door to his cluttered room.

Ben bites his lip, noticing for the first time how fucking dorky his room is. _Normal_ teenagers probably don’t have miniature models of planet systems taking up space on their shelves or figurines of different droids bookending collections of their favorite childhood holofilms. And since when was his room so damn dark? From the carpet to the blankets on the bed pushed into the corner, Ben’s room is completely decked out in black. But, considering Hux’s usual monochromatic ensemble, he probably doesn’t mind.

After the door slides shut behind them, Ben suddenly realizes that the only place to sit is the bed. _Well_ , he thinks to himself, _it’s only as awkward as you make it_. Plopping down near the head of the bed, Ben gestures for Hux to sit. 

Hux carefully perches on the far corner of the mattress, as far from Ben as possible. He cranes his neck, taking in all of Ben’s figurines and posters. The second Hux’s eyes find the poster above Ben’s bed, he barks out a laugh.

“What?” Ben asks, eyes narrowing.

“It’s just—just—“ Hux can hardly get the words out between fits of laughter. “The fact that there’s an old Empire propaganda poster in the house of General Organa…” Hux continues to shake with laughter as he sets his bag on the floor next to the bed. 

Ben looks up at his poster and frowns. “I don’t have it because it’s for the old Empire. I have it because it has my grandfather on it.” Darth Vader’s red lightsaber casts an epic glow around block letters that read, “Unity. Protection. Control.”

“Oh, right, I forgot that masked fool was your own flesh and blood.” Hux shakes his head dismissively. “It’s not a bad poster, though. That slogan has quite a nice ring to it.” 

Hux leans down to pull his datapad out of his backpack, and Ben can just make out the ridges of his bony spine through the fabric of his tunic. Ben shivers, the slight against his grandfather forgotten. 

“So, I’m assuming you called me over here to help you study for our Battle Strategy exam tomorrow…” Hux says, pulling up his notes on his datapad. His eyes never leave the screen, and he continuous to spew info about the test even after Ben’s stopped listening.

“Yeah, about that…” Ben interrupts. Hux’s sharp gaze jumps to Ben’s, and his sentence trails off. This is going to be harder than he thought. “I don’t need help with Military Strategy.”

Hux’s pink lips twist into a frown. “Then why did you have me bring my notes?”

Ben sighs. _Okay, here goes nothing_. “So that you’d come over.” His eyes are suddenly studying the corner of his ceiling, wondering if that dark smudge has always been there.

“So then, pray tell, why did you invite me over?” Ben snaps his eyes back to Hux’s, expecting disgust but instead getting confusion. This would be so much easier if Luke would’ve just taught him to read some _fucking_ minds…

“I need a favor,” Ben says, keeping his gaze steady. _Confidence, kid, all it takes is some confidence._

“Yes, you’ve said that already,” Hux replies, smirking slightly.

“Okay.” Ben takes a deep breath, trying to fill his large lungs with courage in the form of oxygen. “So I’m writing this manuscript thing, and my main character, he does all this badass stuff like go on missions and use the Force and rescue people from danger, and this one guy he rescues from danger…Well, I should start by telling you that I don’t write so well unless I’ve experienced what I’m writing about myself, so I need to get some experience in some things, so my writing isn’t shit, but I—“

“Get to the bloody point, Solo,” Hux snaps. His sharp features begin to twist into a scowl of impatience. 

“I _am_.” Ben glares at Hux, hating himself for forcing him into this situation. Why did it have to be Hux, for fuck’s sake? “So, this guy my main character rescues, at the end. Well, as a thank-you-for-rescuing-me kinda thing, he kisses him. And. Um. I don’t.” Ben clears his throat. “Have experience. You know. With that.”

Hux is silent for ten agonizing seconds. His expression flits between shock and confusion before finally settling on amusement. “You’ve never kissed anyone,” he says, and it’s not a question.

“Yeah, like you have!” Ben retorts, although he hopes he’s wrong. He’s kind of counting on Hux’s expertise to make up for his embarrassing inexperience. 

Hux glares at Ben, his face going rosy. “I have too!” After taking a calming breath, Hux crosses his arms and says, “I’ll have you know that I’ve kissed three different people.”

Ben snorts. “If one of them’s Mitaka, it doesn’t count.”

Hux frowns. “Why doesn’t Mitaka count? And also, let the record display that that was a lapse in judgement on my part.” His eyes refuse to meet Ben’s.

“No way!” Ben laughs. “Mitaka? I was mostly kidding!” 

“Like I said, it was a mistake!” Hux insists, his face returning to that lovely shade of red. “It was a dare, at one of Phasma’s stupid parties.”

Ben frowns. “I’ve never been invited to one of those parties.”

“Hmm, I wonder why,” Hux says, rolling his eyes. 

“Hey, at least I haven’t kissed Mitaka.” Ben smiles and leans back against his headboard. 

“At least I’ve kissed _someone_.” 

“I’d rather have kissed no one than have kissed Mitaka.”

“Hey! You should be nicer to him; he’s absolutely terrified of you,” Hux points out. “And I haven’t _just_ kissed Mitaka.”

“Okay,” Ben says, “so who are these mysterious other two people?”

Hux frowns. “You don’t know them.” 

Ben laughs. “That doesn’t sound fake _at all_.”

“They’re real! You just don’t know them because they’re from Arkanis, from when I went on holiday there last year and the year before that.” Hux bites his lip, and Ben attempts to scan him with the Force like Luke tried to teach him to. He doesn’t _seem_ to be lying.

“Okay, okay, I believe you,” Ben says, lifting both hands in the air in surrender. _Now, the moment of truth_. “So, are you gonna help me, or not?”

Hux licks his lips, and his voice gets soft. “I…suppose so.” 

A smile breaks free on Ben’s face. “Great!” There’s a pause, and both him and Hux stay frozen in place. “…So, uh, how are we—“

Hux crosses the space between them on the bed in one swift motion, and suddenly his lips are on Ben’s. 

_Oh._

Ben’s eyes slide closed as Hux’s lips move expertly against his, and the gears in Ben’s brain grind to a halt while his emotions short-circuit. Wanting to remember it all in perfect detail but knowing that he’ll never be able to, Ben tilts his head hesitantly to the side and places his clumsy hands lightly on either side of Hux’s ribcage.

Hux’s lips seem to know exactly where they need to be, pressing urgently against Ben’s as his head angles to the side. Hux suddenly feels so small between Ben’s sweating palms, swift as a bolt of lightning he’s trying to capture in his uneasy grip. He worries that the force of his thundering heartbeat alone is enough to send Hux flying back against the opposite wall. 

Hux shifts his left leg over Ben’s, situating himself firmly in the other boy’s lap. Ben tenses under the sudden new points of contact, and his mind ricochets between _lips hands ribs thighs_ and _fuck_ , Hux’s slim fingers are twined in his dark hair and he tastes like sipping fire from the jagged edges of a broken bottle and it’s just all _too much_.

Ben slides up against the back of his headboard and opens his eyes. Hux’s mouth follows Ben’s, his eyelids fluttering as if he’s dreaming. Ben can’t help himself; he brushes his trembling fingers over the scalding pinpricks of Hux’s freckles.

Hux drags his lips away from Ben’s and frowns. “You’re supposed to close your eyes, you imbecile,” he says, but the smile he’s trying to hide takes away the comment’s bite. 

“Sorry,” Ben breathes, and he’s surprised that his stuttering brain can string together enough syllables to form words. “I’m just trying to…remember this.”

The sudden rush of emotions rolling off Hux’s Force presence are enough to make Ben’s jaw drop. His green eyes look more human than Ben’s ever seen them, and he can maybe, just _maybe_ , make out an emotion in them that’s shaped a bit like longing. 

Ben needs to write it all down, and write it now, before it dissolves into the dullness of long-term memory. Maybe, after he writes about it, he’ll be able to pick apart whatever look Hux just gave him.

Ben reaches for his datapad on his bedside table, causing Hux to roll suddenly out of his lap. The Scene is open before Ben can even feel Hux’s warmth shift back to the foot of the bed. 

“I trust that was sufficient,” Hux huffs, and Ben lifts his eyes in time to see him cross his arms. 

“Yeah, that was perfect,” Ben replies, turning his eyes and fingers back to his manuscript. The sentences practically form themselves, his spout of narrative flowing out grandiose metaphors and imagery. 

Ben’s three paragraphs in when he realizes that Hux is gone.

 

***

 

Ben Solo was eleven years old when he first realized that Kylo Ren is probably more Sith Lord than Jedi. 

It began the day that Han had said, “See ya, kid,” for the last time, and that was the day all of his father’s belongings were packed up into the Millennium Falcon for good. After tearing down all of his model starships and smashing all of his holoimages, Ben pounded the sentences out on his datapad. Kylo Ren dragged Han Solo out onto a narrow bridge above a gaping pit and skewered him through with his lightsaber. 

_Han Solo’s face was a mask of shock. He couldn’t believe that his kid could be capable of something so ruthless, but maybe if he’d been around more, maybe he could’ve prevented it. His features finally droop in the final release of death, bathed in the red light of Kylo’s lightsaber…_

It was that sentence that finally jerked Ben to a halt. _Red_ lightsaber? Where had that come from? His lightsaber was blue…

After rereading the preceding scene, however, Ben had to admit that Kylo Ren’s actions were far too dark to warrant the purity of Uncle Luke’s blue lightsaber. Plus, Luke had passed down his lightsaber to Rey anyway.

No, the blade that struck down Han Solo would have to be red, and the man who killed him would have to be a Sith Lord. 

So Kylo Ren became a Sith Lord. 

Now, staring at his dad’s empty chair at the dinner table, Ben figures that Han Solo might as well be dead, for all it matters to him. Fathers are just traps set to disappoint you, filled with false promises of caring and appreciation. He doesn’t need someone to tell him how to grow up. It’s been four years, and dammit if Ben’s not the most well-adjusted guy on this damn base. Well, besides the whole getting-kicked-out-of-Jedi-school thing.

“You had a… _guest_ over today,” Leia says from her spot across from Ben. She’s rightfully hesitant to use the word “friend,” but the statement is far from a question. Her brown eyes glance from Ben’s to that damned scanner by the front door. 

“Yeah, Hux was just helping me with my Military Strategy notes,” Ben says, poking his re-heated dinner with a fork. 

“Armitage Hux?” Leia’s eyebrows raise a fraction of an inch. “Didn’t he used to pick on you?”

Ben rolls his eyes melodramatically. “ _Everyone_ used to pick on me, Mom. Plus, it’s not like that anymore, he’s my friend.” _Okay, so maybe that part’s stretching it a little._

Leia frowns at her son as she takes a sip of water. “I don’t know, Ben, I just don’t know if I like you hanging around that Imperial loyalist and his corrupted goons.”

“ _Goons?_ ” Ben practically spits out his milk. “Phasma and Mitaka are hardly _goons_ , Mom. They’re just, I don’t know, normal people.”

Leia rolls her eyes. “I’m not going to go as far as to say who you can and can’t spend your time with…” She pauses in a way that tells Ben that she’s about to do exactly that. “But just tread carefully, Benny, okay?”

“Don’t call me Benny,” Ben snaps. “I’m not a kid.” He frowns. “And I don’t need to ‘tread carefully’; I can fucking take care of myself.” And with that, Ben stands up from the table and stomps into his room. 

 

***

 

Of course, now that he knows that Hux’s gang doesn’t live up to his mom’s impossible standards, Ben pretty much _has_ to spend all of his free time with the trio. 

It all started two days after he and Hux had made out on his bed, when Phasma had invited him to one of her infamously crazy parties. He had shown up alone, early, and hopelessly drunk on excitement alone. This was _happening_ , this was _acceptance_ , acceptance like he never felt with all those stuffy Jedi. 

Ben spent the majority of the party dancing with people who probably didn’t recognize him, and he really didn’t give a fuck. He didn’t have to be anyone; he could finally express the part of himself that lived in his story. 

Ben could finally become more like Kylo Ren. 

He’s getting another glass of something pink and most likely alcoholic when Hux finally approaches him.

“I need a favor,” Hux says, leaning up against the cabinetry in a way that Ben’s sure is supposed to come off as casual. 

Ben laughs at the irony. “I think that’s my line, buddy.”

“Buddy?” Hux looks at him incredulously, the low lighting of the party hollowing out his cheeks. “Are you drunk?”

Ben smirks. “Not yet. Are you?”

Hux rolls his eyes and snorts. “If this conversation with you drags on any longer, I might need to be.”

Ben bites his lip, slightly disappointed. Drunk Hux would be funny as hell. “So what’s this about a favor?” 

“I need help with my Hosnian Literature composition.” Hux’s eyes meet Ben’s as he folds his hands primly behind his back. 

Ben just about spits out his drink. “You. Asking for help.” Glancing over at Hux’s slim frame, he hooks his thumbs through his belt loops. “Are you sure you don’t have any _ulterior motives_?” Ben asks, dropping his voice. 

The force of Hux’s glare burns the smirk right off Ben’s face. “I’m not _you_ ,” Hux sneers. “This is purely for my educational advancement. _Not_ that kind of educational advancement,” he adds.

“Sure, sure, whatever. When do you want me to come over?”

“Wrong. I’m coming over to your place.”

Ben frowns. “Why?”

“Your mother’s never home.” 

“You don’t know that.”

“Actually, I do.” Hux glares at him. “It’s easier this way.”

“For you, maybe,” Ben mutters under his breath. While it’s true that Leia is rarely home in the evenings, having Hux consistently over at his house isn’t exactly the message he wants to send to his mother. _Well, it sure would do a good job pissing her off…_

“Should I take your silence to mean that you agree?” Hux asks, smiling smugly. 

Ben grunts. What is he getting himself into?

 

***

 

Ben Solo has been writing about the adventures of Kylo Ren since he was eight years old.

Uncle Luke had said that he needs a positive way to express his anger, and that’s how Ben began his life of writing. In his stories, he could do whatever he wanted without all those pesky consequences. He didn’t need to concern himself with Luke’s disappointed looks, his dad’s sad smiles, or the worry in his mom’s eyes when he destroyed something new. He was unstoppable; he could do anything in his stories. 

A few weeks into Ben’s writing career, he figured that he should probably change his main character’s name. A dark-haired Jedi named Ben left little mystery as to who he was supposed to be, so Ben began brainstorming ideas for a new name. His initial thought was to make his name “Skywalker,” like his grandfather, but that was too obvious. Ben shortened it to “Sky” and kept it like that for a few days before Rey told him that “Sky” was a girl’s name.

“It is not,” he huffed at her, snatching back his datapad. 

“Is too!” Rey insisted, crossing her skinny arms. “There’s a girl in my class called Sky.”

“There is _not_!” Ben replied. He stomped his foot. She was only one level below him; he would’ve known if there was a girl named Sky in Uncle Luke’s Jedi training program. 

“Plus, you’re a Solo, not a Skywalker,” Rey said, a proud smile on her lips. 

The flames of rage ignited in Ben’s belly. Did Rey really have to rub it in? If _he_ was the child of Uncle Luke, _he_ wouldn’t be such a bully about it. 

After that, Ben changed his Jedi character’s name to “Sky-lo,” adding the second half of his own last name to his character’s. As much as he fought with his dad, he still was a Solo, and it wasn’t such a bad name, from a writer’s standpoint, at least.

But “Skylo” still sounded too girly, so he removed the “S” and simply left it at “Kylo.” 

The following year, Ben’s studies with Uncle Luke led him the topic of the Knights of Ren. Ben was awestruck by the black-clad vigilantes and the order of their pack, wreaking havoc across the galaxy. They were the perfect example of the kind of chaos Luke told him to stay away from, so, of course, Ben decided that Kylo’s last name would be “Ren.” 

Kylo Ren carried out the kinds of actions that Luke would definitely frown upon, but, in the story, Luke was Kylo’s master, and he was proud of him. Luke would appear to him in the form of a hologram in a secret room that only he was allowed to enter, and he would be given the kind of assignments that Ben only dreamed of getting. 

“Find the traitor, and discover what he knows,” Luke would rasp from his throne, looming larger-than-life in the audience chamber. 

“Yes, Master,” Kylo would respond, and then he’d go about tracking down said “traitor” with any means necessary. 

It’s only three short weeks before he’s sent away that Ben decides that the name “Luke” is also a bit conspicuous. Even though the stories on his datapad are protected with three passwords, it’s better safe than sorry. He took the “S” from Skywalker and mixed in a few other letters, trying to make the best possible name for his Supreme Leader. A few hours later, Ben had settled on the name “Snoke.” 

The more trouble Ben had in Jedi school, the uglier Snoke became. When Luke scolded him for breaking the training sabers, Snoke became bald. When Luke punished him for getting into a fight with another padawan, Snoke became ancient. When Luke kicked him out of Jedi school for good, Snoke became warped, wrinkled, and scarred. 

But, nonetheless, Kylo Ren obeys every one of Snoke’s orders. 

It was, in fact, Luke’s idea to begin writing in the first place. 

Now, Ben can’t even imagine a life without his story. Every moment that he’s not spending with Hux is dedicated to writing and rewriting The Scene. If anything, the kiss complicated things even further.

Ben pounds his head back against the bed frame, frustrated. His vocabulary isn’t near vast enough to capture the essence of something as magnitudinal as the kiss. 

“What?” Hux looks up from his datapad, green eyes curious. He’s perched on the foot of Ben’s bed, like most days, with his spindly legs crossed in front of him. 

“Just…writing,” Ben sighs. “But, hey, you’re supposed to be reading, you slacker!”

Hux rolls his eyes. “Yes, _Mother_.” 

Ben huffs out a laugh. “How much do you have left, anyway?”

“Um.” Hux swallows. “I’m still working on that pointless essay.”

“It’s not pointless!” Ben protests. “That book was a masterpiece!” 

Hux scoffs. “A masterpiece? You’ve got to be shitting me, Solo. That book was garbage, like all Hosnian Literature. Honestly, they should just vaporize that whole system.” He rolls his eyes at Ben.

“I can’t believe you,” Ben says. “Let me see what you’ve got so far.” Hux yelps as Ben yanks his datapad out of his hands. 

“Hey!” Hux snaps. 

Ben wrinkles his brow in confusion. _This isn’t an essay; it’s a video on X-wing assault tactics_. “What the hell is this?”

Hux’s cheeks flush, submerging his freckles in a fiery blush. “I, um, already finished the essay.”

“Really?” Ben asks. “When?”

Ben watches Hux’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “Five days ago.”

A smirk spreads across Ben’s face. “Oh, really, Hux? Is literature class not as hard as you were making it out to be?”

Hux’s eyes sparkle with annoyance. “I must’ve underestimated the difficulty. Your point is?”

“Nothing.” Ben gives Hux his absolute best shit-eating grin. “But I think you just lost your excuse for coming over.”

“I don’t need an excuse to come over,” Hux huffs. “You practically beg me every day.” 

Ben crosses his thick arms. “I do not!”

“You do so,” Hux laughs. “Now, leave me alone, I want to get back to my video.” He yanks his datapad out of Ben’s grip in one quick motion and taps the screen to start it again. 

“Can I watch, too?” Ben asks, setting aside his own datapad. Writing was getting him nowhere today. 

Hux’s mouth opens into a little O of surprise, but he quickly closes it. “Fine. I’ll turn back on the volume.” He shifts his position so Ben can see the screen. “I should warn you, though, it’s very technical.”

Narrowing his eyes, Ben snaps, “I think I can handle it, Hux.” 

Hux rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say, Solo.” He hits play on the video, and a deep voice begins to drone on about flight formations. 

As Hux predicted, Ben was soon bored. Who gives a fuck about battle tactics from the Clone Wars era? It’s much more fun just to study Hux’s expressions as he watches. Hux is completely enraptured by the video, his lips mouthing some of the more technical words. The light from the screen plays against the points of his cheekbones, painting him in a red glow. Hux’s face is relaxed in a way that Ben so rarely gets to see; there’s not a single biting remark bubbling beneath the surface. The faintest shadow of uncharacteristically irresponsible stubble decorates his sharp jaw, and Ben can’t bring himself to look away. 

Ben has never noticed the exact shade of Hux’s eyes before, a cross between the misty blue of mornings on the Base and the seafoam green Ben remembers from trips with his father. _Jade_ , Ben decides. Hux’s eyes are jade. 

When the video wraps up, Hux says that he needs to go. Ben sighs, but Hux _did_ stay later than he has been staying these past two weeks. Plus, now’s a good opportunity for him to take another shot at writing The Scene. 

Pulling out his datapad, Ben cracks his neck. Today, he’s going to get shit _done_. The words start coming as soon as he disconnects the rational part of his brain and relaxes. It’s almost like meditating, writing is, letting the subconscious mind take control for a while. Luke may have been full of shit, but at least his stupid tips help Ben get some words on the page. 

_Kylo Ren’s knees crunch into the snow at the other man’s side. The chocolate brown of his true love’s face is marred by an angry red slash, and his short form seems even smaller lying in the pile of bloodied snow. Kylo reaches a hand down to stroke the man’s dark hair, and his closed eyelids flutter open. The brown eyes staring up at Kylo Ren have never been filled with so much relief and longing._

_Leaning forward, Kylo captures his true love’s lips with his own._

“Nope,” Ben mutters, and he backspaces the whole thing. 

_Kylo Ren’s knees crunch into the snow as he falls to the other man’s side. His skin is the same pale shade as the snow he lies on, and an angry red slash bisects his face. His stocky form is soaked in a puddle of bloodied snow, and his soft eyes are closed. Kylo reaches a gloved hand down to touch the his true love’s brown waves, and the other man’s eyes flutter open. He’s floored by the longing and relief displayed in their brown depths._

Groaning, Ben restarts again. 

_Kylo Ren’s knees crunch into the snow as he falls to his true love’s side. His skin is the same pale shade as the snow he lies on, and an angry red slash bisects his refined features. His delicate frame is a tangle of long legs and bloodied snow, and the other man’s eyes are closed. Kylo reaches a gloved hand down to stroke his true love’s blond hair, and the other man’s eyes open slowly. The master of the Knights of Ren is floored by the longing and relief displayed in his true love’s brown eyes._

Even worse. 

_Kylo Ren’s knees crunch into the snow as he falls to his true love’s side. His skin is the same pale shade as the snow he lies on, and an angry red slash bisects his refined features. His delicate frame is a tangle of long legs and bloodied snow, and the other man’s eyes are closed. Kylo reaches a gloved hand down to stroke the striking red of his true love’s hair, and the other man’s eyes open slowly. The master of the Knights of Ren is floored by the longing and relief conveyed in the depths of his true love’s brown eyes._

Fuck.

_Kylo Ren’s knees crunch into the snow as he falls to his true love’s side. His skin is as pale as the snow he lies on, his hair as red as the blood on his face. His refined features are frozen in a scowl of despair, and his delicate frame is a tangle of long legs and black fabric, and the other man’s sharp eyes are closed. Kylo reaches a gloved hand down to run his fingers through the beautiful, burning flame of his true love’s hair, and the other man’s eyes open slowly at the touch. The master of the Knights of Ren is floored by the longing and relief conveyed in the depths of his true love’s eyes._

_Kylo Ren thinks he could stare into those jade eyes forever._

 

***

 

Ben Solo has never been more fucked. 

He doesn’t know how it happened. Even after hours of mulling it over, Ben can’t puzzle out how everything could’ve gone so utterly and colossally wrong. 

Somehow, sometime, some way, Hux has become his true love in his manuscript. 

Now Ben can’t make a single scene come out right unless he describes the sharp cheekbones, red hair, and green eyes of his true love. Everything else sounds empty and cliché.

On the plus side, at least Ben finally has a name to attach to the character. 

Spending time with Hux has turned into utter torture, especially since now Hux has completely dropped the pretense of going over to Ben’s for homework help. They’ll simply sit side by side on Ben’s bed, each doing their own thing, occasionally teasing or berating each other for something or other. 

The fact that these simple interactions occur in the same spot where, mere weeks ago, Ben’s lips were locked with Hux’s, his hands clutching his hair, makes Ben wonder if he’s actually a masochist. It takes all the control he has to keep it casual, and if his failed career as a Jedi is anything to go by, Ben doesn’t have much in the control department. 

“You have _not_ been to Hutt Space!” Hux shouts, crossing his arms. He leans back against the wall, seated at his usual spot at the foot of Ben’s bed.

“I have too!” Ben insists. 

“Really? When?” Hux narrows his eyes.

“When I was nine.”

“Sorry, Solo, but I think you’re shitting me.” Hux shrugs in that infuriating way of his, and Ben almost breaks a tooth clenching his jaw.

“Fuck you, Hux.” Ben’s back hits his headboard as he lies back, slamming his fist into the wall Hux is sitting against. 

Hux lets out a single, sharp laugh. “You look ridiculous when you’re angry,” he sneers.

Ben clenches his fists. Who does Hux think he is? _If he thinks that_ this _is angry, he should’ve seen me back at Jedi school…_ He shakes his head to clear the thought, and an idea pops into his brain.

“I can prove it!” Ben exclaims, already rolling towards the holoprojector sitting on his bedside table. He scrolls through the menu, hits a button, and suddenly his bedroom ceiling is covered with projected stars, all the regions of the galaxy labeled neatly. 

“Ben, I can’t even read that in this lighting,” Hux snaps, clearly not impressed.

Ben shrugs. “Lights, zero percent,” he commands, and suddenly the room is painted in the pale blue glow of the projection.

“Zero percent? Isn’t that a bit excessive?” Hux says, frowning slightly.

Ben shrugs. “You said you couldn’t read it.”

“I still can’t. It’s upside-down.”

“Oh,” Ben replies. “Come over here, it’s right side-up from my angle,” he says without thinking.

Hux slides his long legs onto the bed and scoots back next to Ben. Ben’s bed isn’t very big, so Hux is sandwiched between him and the wall. Ben is suddenly acutely aware of Hux’s head leaning back against the headboard next to him, dangerously close to resting on his shoulder. The light of the stars make Hux’s eyes brighter and paints his delicate lips a soft blue color. Hux’s body lightly brushes Ben’s at his elbow and hipbone, and he can practically hear the little _zing_ s of electricity between them.

This maybe wasn’t the best idea.

But there’s no turning back now.

Ben carefully lifts his right arm, the one not flush against Hux’s, and points to the thumb-shaped Hutt Space zone highlighted on the map. “We flew along the Triellus Trade Route on our way to Kessel, but then we ran into some trouble, and then we ended up on Ulmatra.” Ben traces the path with his finger, the stars twinkling slightly with the animation. 

“By ‘we’ I assume you mean you and the infamous Han Solo?”

Ben bites his lip. “Yes.”

Hux’s eyes light up, and his face turns toward Ben’s. “Is it true that he made the Kessel run in fourteen parsecs?”

“Twelve,” Ben says automatically, and then he wants to slap himself. _Who the fuck cares?_

“That’s incredible!” Hux exclaims. “Especially given his lack of formal military training. What was it like to fly with him?”

Ben sighs. “Hux, do we have to talk about this?” 

Hux’s excited expression quickly morphs into a sneer. “Do I sense some daddy issues, Benny?”

“Fuck you. Don’t call me Benny.” Ben turns his head away from Hux’s, suddenly not caring for that stupid bubbly feeling that being this close gives him. _It’s none of his damn business, anyway._

Hux’s laugh is freezing. “You’re so easy to get riled up, _Benny_.”

Ben glares. Hux has no idea how fucking _“riled up”_ he can get. “Yeah, well, fuck you, _Armie_ ,” he spits at Hux.

Hux’s features turn to stone. “Don’t. Call. Me. That,” he grunts through clenched teeth. 

Ben laughs. “Why not, _Armie_? It’s all in good fun! Benny and Armie, what a pair we make…” He trails off when he realizes that Hux looks genuinely upset. Actually, he looks ready to cry. “Sorry?” Ben tries.

“You should be.” Hux slides away, breaking the contact between their torsos, and Ben hears his body thump against the wall.

Ben sighs and turns back to the projected stars. _Why does Hux always have to be so damn difficult?_

The silence hangs in the air like a sheet of glass until Hux finally breaks it.

“My mother called me Armie,” he says, his voice soft. “That’s why I don’t want anyone to call me that. It was…hers.” 

The note of sorrow in Hux’s voice tears a guilty hole through Ben’s chest. “I’m sorry.”

Hux simply nods, and Ben feels the air settle into a state of tentative trust. Hux has never shown him this much vulnerability, and Ben doesn’t want the bittersweet feeling to end. 

“How old were you when she died?” Ben asks quietly, even though he already knows the answer. According to the files on his family that Ben had read last week, Lyra Hux had died a few years after the destruction of the second Death Star. 

“About four,” Hux says, staring intently at the wall. “I think—actually, I _know_ that was what finally pushed my father to defect from those Imperial bastards. They just—“ Hux bites his lip, “—didn’t give a damn about her, or give a damn about any of us, so.” Hux shrugs his narrow shoulders. “Here I am.”

“But you remember her?”

“Not really. Just, you know, that she called me ‘Armie’.” 

Ben doesn’t say anything for a moment. This side of Hux is new and uncertain, like setting out in a ship without a destination in mind. But those are the types of trips Ben always loved the most.

“Do you want kids, Hux?” Ben doesn’t know where the question comes from, but he says it anyway.

Hux’s laugh is as sharp as his eyes. “Not a chance in hell.” He pauses. “Why, do you?”

Ben presses his lips together. “I think I do. But, you know, I haven’t really thought about it that much.”

Hux laughs again. “Ben, if I know you at all, then I can guarantee that you’ve thought about it.”

Ben turns, shifting his weight onto his shoulder, facing Hux. “Okay, so what if I have? I think about things.”

Hux snorts at that. 

“How can you be so sure you don’t want kids?”

“Because I’d be a fucking awful father, that’s why,” Hux snaps, turning away from Ben again.

“You would not!” Ben insists. “You could, like, teach your kid about all that military stuff you love.”

Hux rolls his glorious eyes at Ben. “Believe or not, Solo, but there’s more to parenting than teaching kids battle tactics.”

Ben shrugs. “I don’t know, I don’t think there’s all that much to it.”

Hux raises his eyebrows. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. I mean, as long as you stick around, everything else can be fixed with time.” Ben doesn’t meet Hux’s eyes, instead deciding to study the star paths decorating his ceiling.

“Am I to assume that you’re talking about your father again?”

“Am I to assume you were talking about yours?”

That earns Ben a bittersweet grin. “Touché.”

Hux shifts against the headboard, and Ben catches a whiff of whatever pine-scented hair product Hux uses. _It smells like his eyes_ , Ben can’t help but think.

“You know,” Hux says, breaking the momentary silence that has settled between them, “fathers who stick around aren’t automatically saints either.”

Ben frowns. “Hux, just because your dad was shitty doesn’t mean that you’d be a shitty dad.”

“Actually, it does. Basic genetics would disagree.”

“You’re not your dad.” 

Hux’s lips part hesitantly. “You don’t even know my father.”

“Yeah, I do,” Ben says. He thinks back to all the things he’s read on Former Commandant Brendol Hux. They didn’t paint a complete picture, but Ben knows the type enough to fill in the blanks. “You’re different.”

Hux turns his face towards Ben’s, the space between them suddenly achingly significant. The glow of the projector warms the edges of Hux’s permanent scowl, and it’s all Ben can do to keep himself from tracing the elegant curves of his cheekbones.

Hux’s voice is a whisper. “How so?”

“You’re…softer.” The word feels right on Ben’s tongue, and he wonders if Hux has ever been called soft in his life. Based on the way his expression changes, Ben guesses that the answer is no.

“Oh.”

_I could just do it_ , Ben thinks, and the thought of kissing Hux again sears through his mind. Consequences be damned, if he doesn’t do it, he might drown in the gravity of Hux’s mere proximity. 

Before Ben can make his move, Hux bolts upright. He’s suddenly leaning against the wall in the center of the mattress, not meeting Ben’s gaze. 

A simple action has never cut Ben so deep.

“Um, so, how’s that scene you were working on coming along?” Ben doesn’t think he’s ever heard Hux sound this flustered.

“Oh, that?” Ben fumbles into a more upright position. “It’s, uh, good, I guess?”

Hux’s eyes are on Ben’s again. “Could I read it?”

“Um…” Ben gropes around on the floor, seeking his datapad as uncertainty clouds his mind. His descriptions of his embarrassingly cheesy “true love” are clearly recognizable as Hux, but Ben can’t say no to that stupidly attractive face. “I could maybe read it aloud to you?”

Hux settles back into a cross-legged position, once more having regained his composure. “Well. Get on with it.”

“Okay.” Ben opens the file and begins to read. “ _Kylo Ren’s knees crunch into the snow as he falls to his…_ man’s _side._ ”

“’His man’?” Hux mocks, stifling a laugh. 

“Shut up. Do you want to hear this or not?”

Hux rolls his eyes, and Ben continues. 

“ _His skin is as pale as the snow he lies on, his hair as_ …brown _…as_ …brown? _His refined features are frozen in a scowl of despair, and his delicate frame is a tangle of long legs and black fabric, and the other man’s sharp eyes are closed. Kylo reaches a gloved hand down to run his fingers through the beautiful, burning_ …brown-ness… _of his…hair, and the other man’s eyes open slowly at the touch. The master of the Knights of Ren is floored by the longing and relief conveyed in the depths of his..._ eyes. 

“ _Kylo Ren thinks he could stare into those…_ brown… _eyes forever. He closes his lips around the other man’s, and the kiss is a charged bolt of electricity straight to Kylo’s core. He feels both submerged into the Dark Side and pulled into the light by this other man’s mere action of moving his mouth against his own._ ”

Ben stops reading and looks up at Hux. His eyes are alight with what Ben can only describe as _pure glee_ , and he braces himself to be verbally eviscerated. The only question is, what will he attack first? The Dark Side stuff? “ _Brown-ness_ ”? The possibilities are fucking endless.

“It’s shit,” Hux says, and Ben deflates. _Let it begin._

“Really?” Ben says, even though he knows it’s true.

Hux grins wolfishly. “Yes. It’s complete and utter shit, but I know how to fix it.”

Ben hopes Hux can’t hear the confusion in his voice. “How?”

“You need to do more research.”

Hux practically leaps onto Ben’s lap, straddling him. Ben doesn’t even have time to gasp before Hux is kissing him.

Hux doesn’t waste any time weaving his delicate fingers into Ben’s dark hair. His wiry arms tug Ben forward until Hux is slanted at a forty-five degree angle in Ben’s lap. Adrenaline surges into Ben’s veins, and his nerves can go fuck themselves, because _dammit_ he’s not going to be that dorky, awkward kid that scared Hux off last time. This time, less thinking. More doing.

Ben’s arms circle around Hux’s narrow frame, and he pulls him even closer. Hux practically melts as he’s pressed to Ben’s chest, and it’s enough to send Ben’s pulse racing into a spiral of staccato beats.

_Screw my insatiable rage_ , Ben thinks as Hux parts his lips against his, _this will be my downfall._

Ben’s tongue slides into Hux’s mouth, hurried and clumsy, but Hux doesn’t seem to mind. It’s a collision of opposing forces, aggressively sloppy against ruthlessly precise, like alcohol and blaster fire, and the sparks are spectacular. Hux’s teeth graze his lower lip, and Ben twists his head to deepen the kiss even further. 

Ben’s hands clutch the thin fabric of Hux’s shirt, and the other boy’s lean muscles tremble in his grip. Ben slides his back down the mattress, switching to a more horizontal position. He opens his eyes enough to catch Hux smirking against his chest as they shift, and Ben can’t help but grin. He’s kissing Hux. _Again_. 

Hux’s mouth is now slick against his neck, and again Ben thinks of fire. Hux’s mouth scorches his skin and his hands threaten to ignite Ben’s hair. 

Ben’s entire body is shuddering with pounding heartbeats. His hands trail down the ridges of Hux’s spine, landing on the hem of his shirt. When his fingers press against the simmering heat of Hux’s bare skin, a jolt burns all the way down to where his hips are moving against Hux’s. 

Hux’s mouth stops its progress across Ben’s jaw the second that fingers touch the bare skin of his back, and he turns to stone in Ben’s grip. Reluctantly, Ben opens his eyes, and his vision is immediately flooded with the sight of Hux’s eyes, just a breath away from his. Hux’s face hovers above Ben’s, completely still, the tips of their noses brushing.

“Um, sorry?” Ben breathes, the words dissolving against Hux’s lips, mere centimeters away. 

“Don’t be.” Hux’s eyes shine like stars in the low light. “That’s just…not what we’re researching.”

_Researching? What—oh. That._ Ben bites his lip at the memory of why they’re kissing. Not because Hux wants to. Not because they’re _in love_ or some shit. Nope, just a friend doing a favor for another friend, and Ben had to go and push things too far. 

He squeezes his eyes shut. _Fuck_ , he messed this up too, he managed to fuck up the one friendship he’s managed to make in _five fucking years_ in _five fucking minutes_ and he just needs to stop being so fucking _impulsive_ and—

Hux’s lips against his own stop his thoughts in their tracks. The kiss is soft, like biting into one of the buttery cookies Leia used to make before everything fell apart. It’s innocent, despite their somewhat compromising positions, and Ben sighs. 

Well, even if it is just a favor, there’s no point in stopping now. 

The kiss slowly ratchets up to the point they were at before, minus Ben’s roving hands. Nope, this time his hands are _not_ going to fuck things up, they’re just going to stay twisted in Hux’s silky hair, and Ben’s just going to focus on drinking in as much of Hux’s flickering breath as possible. As his mind spirals up into shades of happiness he hasn’t thought about in years, the last thing on Ben’s mind is research. 

Everything stutters to a halt once again when Ben hears the garage door open.

Hux sits up in a flash. “Is that your mother?” His bright eyes are wide, cheeks flushed.

“Fuck, I think so.” Ben flips back through his memory, trying to remember when Leia said she’d be home, but the logical side of his brain appears to be powered down at the moment. “Um, we’re just studying, it’s fine! It’s fine! She won’t suspect!” He runs his fingers frantically through his hair, not sure if he’s making himself more presentable or less so. 

Hux laughs as he slides off Ben’s lap. “What, Solo, have you never been caught with a boy in your bed before?”

Ben flushes more, if it’s even possible. “Well, have you?”

Hux bites his lip, which Ben notes is puffy and slick with saliva. _His_ saliva. “I actually do need to be getting home, though. I don’t want _father_ to worry.” The sudden scorn in his voice makes Ben shiver.

“Okay.” The word is a stone of disappointment dropped into Ben’s gut. _But_ … “To be continued?” he asks.

Hux purses his lips, but Ben still catches the corners tilting up. “We’ll see.”

He’ll take it.

 

*** 

 

Ben Solo’s finally done it. The Scene is finally finished. He skims through what he’s written, not satisfied but not disappointed either. Eh, he’ll edit it later. After Hux comes over. 

Ben glances at the clock and frowns. Hux should be here any minute, but what the fuck is he supposed to _say_? Hux’s hint of a smile when Ben had asked, “To be continued?” still echoes in his brain, and there was this moment, in the cafeteria, when their eyes met, and Ben was just so _sure_. There’s no point in kidding himself anymore; Hux is the true love in his story. 

But what if Hux doesn’t want to kiss him again? What then?

He can live with that. Probably. 

Three sharp raps sound against the durasteel door, and Ben practically leaps out of his skin to answer it. The door slides open to reveal Hux, shockingly dressed in a bright green shirt. 

“You’re wearing green.” Ben’s never seen Hux wear anything brighter than navy blue in his entire five years on-base. A tiny flame of hope ignites in his chest as he wonders _who_ Hux is all dressed up for.

Hux rolls his eyes. “Your observation skills never cease to amaze me, Solo. Are you going to invite me in or just stand there mulling it over?”

Ben frowns as he lets Hux past him. He seems pissed. Actually, Hux always seems pissed. 

Today, it’s Hux who leads the way to Ben’s room. “What time will your mother be getting home this evening?” His voice rings clear as a bell as he takes a seat on Ben’s bed. Hux’s posture is the most relaxed that Ben’s ever seen it. How the hell is he _comfortable_ , after what happened yesterday?

“Not until 2300,” Ben replies, taking a seat next to Hux. Close, but not too close? He narrows his eyes. “Why?”

Hux sniffs. “No reason. But.”

“But?” The word zings through Ben’s gut.

Hux turns to face Ben fully, his green eyes curious. “But. I just was wondering, how’s your scene going?”

It takes him a second, but then Ben grins and sits back against his headboard. _So,_ this _is how he’s gonna play it._ Well, Ben can play games, too. “You’re gonna have to be more specific, Hux, I’ve written a lot of scenes.” He stretches out his legs and plops his feet down in Hux’s lap.

“Get your filthy feet off of me!” Hux shoves Ben’s legs off the bed and glares at him. “You know which scene I’m talking about, Solo.”

Ben shrugs. “I dunno, Hux, do I? Why don’t you describe it to me?” 

Hux rolls his eyes. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Ben!” He grabs the collar of the other boy’s shirt and pulls Ben’s lips against his own. 

Ben hopes Hux can taste his victorious grin.

 

***

 

The next few days are more or less the same. Hux appears at Ben’s door, looking fucking fantastic in some new bright color, asks “How’s the Scene going?” and Ben says “Still shit,” Hux mutters something about research, and then they’re kissing again. Every day, Ben loses control just a little bit and tries to take things further, but then Hux gently reminds him that they shouldn’t, and things go back to the way they were. 

Every day, their usual dialogue gets shorter. 

“How’s the Scene going?”

“Still shit.”

“So, do you need to do some more research?”

“Of course.”

Then, “How’s the Scene going?”

“Still shit.”

“You need to do more research.”

Next, “How’s the Scene?”

“Still shit.”

“More research?”

 

***

 

“How’s the Scene?”

“Shitty.”

“Research?”

 

***

 

“Scene?”

“Shit.”

“Research.”

 

***

 

“Scene?”

“Shit.”

 

***

 

“Scene?”

 

***

 

By the second week, the pretense of conversation is dropped altogether. 

Once, Ben even starts kissing Hux before they get through the door. 

Hux pulls him hurriedly inside and snaps, “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Someone could see us!”

“Right.” Ben frowns, and his voice is bitter. “Wouldn’t want anyone to think we were in some kind of relationship.” 

Hux just frowns and shuts him up with a kiss.

 

***

 

“Why have you guys been so weird lately?” Mitaka asks as he sets down his lunch tray. His dark eyes dart between where Hux and Ben are sitting across from each other, pointedly not making eye contact. 

_Have we been acting weird?_ Ben wonders. Well, they haven’t been at each other’s throats as much lately, he muses, biting his lip. Maybe because they’ve spent more time at each other’s throats in a different way…

“We’re not being weird!” Hux insists, shooting a glance at Ben.

Before Ben can chime in, Phasma laughs. “It’s because they’re fucking, Mitaka,” she says matter-of-factly, and his jaw clenches. 

“We’re not _fucking_ ,” Ben spits, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Phasma rolls her eyes at him. “Ben, please. For the past two weeks you’ve been showing up to lunch with hickies all over your neck.” She sticks her spoon into her yogurt and takes a bite. “It’s obvious.”

“Really? What hickies?” Ben smiles triumphantly as Hux flushes even deeper in his peripheral vision. He had checked this morning to make sure the few marks that Hux had managed to leave were out of sight.

“Please, Ben, this is the third day in a row you’ve worn that ridiculous collared shirt.” Phasma grins. “Seriously, just spring for some more clothes that cover your neck.”

Ben’s face burns. Okay, so maybe his collection of collared shirts is limited at best. But. “You can’t prove anything!” Ben insists, and apparently Hux can still roll his eyes through his bright red embarrassment. 

Phasma laughs. “Well, I _could_ , but I won’t, for the sake of Hux’s dignity.”

Hux’s forehead hits the table. “We’re not fucking,” he mumbles at the floor. 

“If you say so,” Phasma shrugs, and Mitaka laughs nervously. “But your expressions tell a different story.”

 

***

 

“Ben.”

Ben jerks awake, not wanting to let Hux know that he fell asleep. When the other boy had suggested that they actually get some homework done for once, Ben had only agreed on the condition that they study wrapped up in the covers of his bed. He briefly wondered if asking to more or less cuddle was pushing it, but Hux had simply crawled into his arms and pulled out his datapad. 

“Yeah?”

Hux sits up and looks at him. “Were you sleeping?”

“No.” _It’s your fucking fault, if you didn’t smell so damn good and weren’t all fucking warm and shit._

Hux rolls his eyes. “You’re a terrible liar, Solo.”

A pang shoots through Ben’s heart. Hux doesn’t know how _damn_ hard it is, pretending that this isn’t something real to him, _lying_ , lying to Hux, lying to himself.

“I’m better than you might think.”

Hux just shrugs. “Anyway, I finished my studies for the evening.”

“Yeah?” Ben grins. “So, what should we do now?”

He’s already leaning in for a kiss when Hux puts a hand over Ben’s lips. “Actually, Ben, I had something else in mind.”

“Hmmm?” Ben hums against Hux’s fingers. They taste like cinnamon. 

Hux takes a deep breath. “I was wondering if you’d let me read your story.”

“My…my story?” Ben sputters. “Shit, Hux, I haven’t looked at that in almost a month.” He yawns. If they’re not going to make out again, he might as well go back to sleep. 

Hux’s eyes meet Ben’s, and the Force-sensitive part of his brain tells him that Hux is nervous. “So, can I read it now?”

“Um, I guess?” Ben picks up his datapad off his bedside table and keys in his passcode. “So, you want to read it, like, now?”

“Yes, Ben, that’s why I said ‘now’.”

“Oh. Okay,” Ben says, opening the document. “Um, it’s kinda long? But, uh, go nuts, I guess.” He hands the datapad over to Hux, who snuggles deeper into the cocoon of blankets and Ben’s arms. 

“Don’t read over my shoulder. I hate that,” Hux says as he scrolls all the way back to the beginning.

“Hux, why would I want to read over your shoulder? I fucking wrote it.” Ben slides his eyes closed again. If Hux wants to read his entire fucking story, he can probably nap for another few hours, at _least_. 

“I don’t know, Solo, just let me read in peace!”

“Sure, sure, whatever,” Ben replies, already drifting from consciousness. 

He’s woken up what seems like days later, from how deeply he was sleeping.

“Ben,” Hux says into his ear.

Ben opens an eye. “What.” The room is darker than it was when he fell asleep. _How long has it been…?_

“Ben. I finished it.”

“Already? What time is it?” Ben blinks twice before noticing the look that Hux is giving him. “What?”

“It’s 1900.” Hux’s eyes bore into Ben’s like they never have before.

“You read it that fast?” 

Hux snorts. “I’m a fast reader, Solo.” His face falls back into the expression it was a few seconds ago, a look of something that seems an awful lot like wonder, or maybe amazement? Hux is looking at Ben like he hung the moon just for him, and Ben has no idea why. 

“Seriously, Hux, what’s up?”

He bites his bottom lip. “I’m your true love. In the story.”

Oh.

Oh, _fuck_. 

Ben squeezes his eyes shut. Had he really forgotten the whole Hux-is-his-true-love business and agreed to let him read it? Fuck, how tired was he when he agreed to this? Hux is the _last_ person who should read his stupid fucking story, and now—and now—

“Hux, I can explain, I swear it’s not what it seems, it’s just a st—“

Hux’s mouth swallows the rest of Ben’s bullshit excuse. Ben decides not to question it and kisses back, bringing his left hand up to curl around the back of Hux’s neck. 

Hux is the one that finally pulls away, his green eyes bright in the darkness. “So, Benjamin Solo, you have feelings for me?” He looks practically ecstatic, just like he does just before he tears Ben apart for something stupid he’s said.

Ben bites his lip. “…Maybe.”

“Stars, that’s a relief,” Hux laughs. “I’m sick of needing all these excuses, aren’t you?”

“W-What?”

Hux plants a quick kiss on Ben’s lips. “Come on, Solo, how dense are you? I don’t give an Ewok’s ass about helping you learn how to write a fucking kissing scene, I just wanted to see if those lips really were as soft as I always imagined they were.”

“Wait.” Ben’s brain needs a second to catch up. “You like me?”

Hux rolls his eyes, and it’s never looked as cute as it does in that moment. “You’re such a fucking idiot, Solo.” He kisses him again, and Ben only lets himself lose focus for a second before pulling away. 

“Hey, you’re the one who needed all those fucking excuses, Hux. You could’ve just kissed me.” Ben crosses his arms over his chest.

Hux looks down. “I wanted to, but I didn’t think you felt the same way.”

Ben wrinkles his forehead. “Why would you think that?”

“Because, _Ben_ ,” Hux spits, suddenly back to his bitter self. “Because that day when you asked me to kiss you for the first time, everything _changed_ , and suddenly you were more than just this annoyingly attractive ex-Jedi that takes up space at my lunch table, and I thought that you felt it too. But no, you just pulled out your fucking datapad and started writing. It really was just _research_ to you.”

“Hux.” Ben’s fingers trace the edges of his face, soft in the low light. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize…” 

They’re silent for a moment, just staring into each other’s eyes. 

Finally, Ben says, “You know, that day we talked about our dads, I was about to kiss you.”

Hux smiles and glances away. “I know.”

“Then why did you bring up that stupid scene? You could’ve just let it happen.”

Hux just shrugs and doesn’t meet Ben’s gaze.

Ben grins. “So you didn’t really think it was shitty?” 

The other boy rolls his eyes again. “Ben, to be completely honest, I didn’t hear a single word you said. It was much more fascinating just to watch your lips form the words.”

“Fuck, Hux, that’s hot.”

Hux smiles lazily, like some kind of feline. “Careful, _Ren_ , that sounds an awful lot like a compliment.”

Ben blinks slowly. “Did you just call me by my character’s name?”

Hux presses his lips to Ben’s jaw and murmurs against his skin, “Is that a problem, Master of the Knights of Ren?” On the last syllable, Hux’s tongue darts out to lick slow circles on Ben’s neck. 

“ _No_ ,” Ben gasps. He brings he hands down onto the mattress beside his legs. If Hux is going to insist on licking his neck and calling him “Master of the Knights of Ren,” Ben’s not going to be able to keep his hands from going places that they aren’t allowed to be.

“So, um, did you like that I made you the general in my story?” Ben asks breathlessly, needing Hux to get his mouth off of his neck. _Fuck, this is torture._

Hux sits up in Ben’s lap and smirks. “Mmm, I did quite like that. But that Supreme Leader we had to answer to, that was ludicrous.”

“I can kill him off in the next draft,” Ben says.

“Good.” Hux grins. “I like being the one in control.”

“In that case, I’ll make you Emperor.” 

This time, Hux’s kiss lands on Ben’s lips. It’s desperate, Hux’s mouth drinking up all the breath in Ben’s body, and Hux’s fingers twist in his hair. Ben clutches the sheets in his fists on either side of his legs, not trusting his hands. 

Hux bites Ben’s lower lip, and the other boy shudders. Hux’s fingers leave Ben’s hair and run down the planes of his back, and Ben jolts when fingers touch the bare skin underneath his cotton shirt. 

“Hux…” Ben breathes against the other boy’s lips. “What are you doing…?” _Don’t stop_.

Hux sits back on Ben’s legs and gives him a look. “Considering how handsy you’ve been over the past few weeks, I wouldn’t think you’d be averse to losing clothing.”

“I…what?” 

Hux rolls his eyes. “ _Clothing_ , Ben. It’s another word for apparel, garments, costume, dress, the likes.” He waves a hand vaguely in the air and scowls. 

“But I thought…” _What did I think?_ “I thought that you didn’t want to…you know.” Ben motions between the two of them and flushes. 

Hux slides closer until their noses nearly brush. “Ben,” Hux breathes, turning his head to meet the other boy’s eyes. “The only reason I kept stopping you was because I didn’t think I could keep up the ruse if we took things any further.”

“The ruse?”

He sighs and looks at Ben like he’s the biggest, most endearing idiot in the world. “The ruse that I don’t care about you.”

Ben grins. “Well, in that case, _General_ …” Ben pulls his shirt over his head in one fluid motion and drops it on the floor. “I can lose the pants, too, or we can work our way up to that.”

Hux is silent, his mouth agape. Ben can practically feel Hux’s eyes running up and down his impressively muscular body. There’s perks to not having any friends and therefore plenty of free time to spend at the base’s training center. 

The grin breaks across Ben’s face. “I know. I’m shredded.”

Hux takes a deep breath. “Alright, if this is happening, I’m going to have to set some rules.”

Ben smirks and crosses his arms behind his head. “Yeah? Like what?”

“Firstly, this ‘General’ business…”

“Oh, I can stop calling you that if you want, I just get carried away sometimes—“

Hux frowns. “No, actually I love it and you shall only refer to me as such from this moment until the end of time.”

“Aye-aye, General,” Ben laughs with a mock salute. “Anything else?”

“Yes.” Hux bites his lip. “I need to know that you won’t be attempting to publish any written accounts of our relationship.”

The word ‘relationship’ zings through Ben’s chest. “What do you mean?”

Hux tries to look stern, but his eyes tell a different story. “I can’t have you writing about our sex life, Ben.”

“We’re gonna have a sex life?” Ben doesn’t care how excited he sounds. 

The other boy shakes his head. “Not if you keep writing about it, we’re not.” 

Ben smiles at the beautiful boy in his lap. “I dunno, Hux, you’re kind of my muse.”

“Oh, _really_?” Hux leans in for a blinding kiss that steals all of Ben’s breath.

“Yep,” Ben says when they finally come up for air. “What’s a masked vigilante without his true love?”

 

***

 

The next day, Ben takes one last shot at writing The Scene. 

_The kiss is as sharp as a steaming star between their mouths. Kylo has never felt so much in his entire life; not when he broke away from the Jedi Order, not when he discovered the true power of the Dark Side, not even when he killed his father. No, this is different, this is the bright light that dances at the edges of his dreams, the whispers in his sleep. This feels like the most complex yet achingly simple thing, just the two of them, lips locked in the snow._

_It feels like being saved._

_When they finally pull away, Hux’s elegant profile is staring down at him. The snow is cold against Kylo’s back, and he’s glad when Hux begins to gather him into his arms. Despite his injuries, the Master of the Knights of Ren has never felt so safe._

He takes his fingers off the keys. Wait…

It’s then that Ben realizes that it’s not Hux lying broken, waiting to be saved in the snow.

It’s him.

 

*** 

 

Ben Solo is fifteen years old when he decides that Kylo Ren is in love with General Hux.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, there it is, my first-ever fic! Shoutout to my amazing friend and beta-reader, Kana (sraawrats on tumblr), for all the encouragement and comments! Seriously, guys, she's the best. 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at adamderiver.


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